Give Me Love
by myheartwonxxo
Summary: Kurt was an angel who made people love each other. He wandered everyday, wondering how it was fair to give so much love but never receive any in return.


_Give Me Love_

**Pairing: **Kurt/Blaine

**Rating:** R

**Word Count: **~4,500

**Warning: **Violence

**Summary: **(Based on the music video for "Give Me Love" by Ed Sheeran). Kurt was an angel that made people love each other. He wandered everyday, wondering how it was fair to give so much love but never receive any in return.

* * *

12/12/09.

_Give me love like her 'cause lately I've been waking up alone._

I've come to realize love is the purest thing in the world. It's a gift.

...a gift given to the greediest of species. Humans want a love that can shatter their insecurities, fill their emptiness and loneliness, and ultimately change them. All of that takes away from the beauty of love, which is about trusting someone enough to give yourself to them completely.

I won't give _those_ people love. In the end, they'll monopolize an emotion they've convinced themselves is love and be satisfied. True, real, poignant love is a gift. I only share my gift with people who deserve it, people who are ready.

I am a Love Spreader, and we _aren't _fat tiny humans in diapers, though the rest is strangely accurate: a small set of wings and a single bow and arrow.

I wander aimlessly, hoping to feel a sensation of people falling in love. I follow the pull and strike. Then they're in love. I _wish_ it was permanent, but slowly the love fades, until I either come again or let it spill out entirely. I can tell immediately how long their love will last by how stuck the arrow is in their bodies. The harder it is to retrieve, the longer I know I have until I see the couple again. I always feel a trickle of sorrow for arrows that slide away easily.

I've aged sixteen years, so spreading love had become simple; it was something as easy as breathing. Day and night. Night and day. I struck and moved on. On this night, I was getting a single pull coming from a few blocks away, and I followed, as always.

Who it brought me to were two boys, relatively the same age as me. The pull was coming from the blond-haired boy seated inches away from the other on a bench outside of a school. The lights were low, except for the one glowing over the pair. I approached.

"I had a good time tonight," the blond said, rubbing his hands together, possibly just as something to do. He was nervous, an emotion that radiated off him like a light.

The other boy, small with dark hair, smiled. "Me too. It was fun. Thanks for coming with me."

The blond chuckled, "It was really brave of you to ask," and he reached across the distance, grasping the other's hand. The small boy gasped softly, the initial surprise on his face slowly falling.

The pull became overwhelming; I was almost blinded by it. Quickly, I closed the space between myself and the couple. Grabbing my arrow from my sack, I eased it into the blond's back. He lost his breath, which was code that the love was spreading, and I pulled the arrow back.

The arrow, which I just noticed, hadn't really penetrated the skin and came out easily. It was like I'd just poked him, not struck.

Sorrowfully, I tucked the arrow away. Usually, I allowed the lovers to continue without intrusion, but for some reason, I couldn't make myself leave. I'd struck young lovers before, younger than these two. And I'd struck two boys before. Love is love, but something was _different._

"Blaine, I-" the blond started.

"Hey, fags!" a snarly rough voice interrupted.

The three of us turned our attention to the school, where a group of boys emerged. They were laughing menacingly, kind of beating on each other. As they approached, Blaine and the blond rose to their feet.

"What are you fairies doing?" one of them asked, obviously angered by the couple's exchanges.

"Contaminating the school with their _gay_ is what," another growled.

The bullies formed a small circle around the two. Their backs were pressed to each other, staring between their large counterparts.

"We don't want any trouble," Blaine croaked, fear racing through his voice.

"You asked for trouble the moment you walked through the doors!" one yelled, getting in Blaine's face. "You're leaving us no choice."

And it happened so fast. The boy standing over Blaine grabbed the front of his shirt and threw him to the ground, immediately kicking into his gut. Then two others launched at the blond, one held him as the other punched.

"NO!" I screamed, rushing forward. I didn't realized I'd slide through the scene until I was on the other side, panting. I turned, and the boys lay sprawled across the ground. The blond fought, but the other – Blaine – he didn't, wouldn't. He was too broken. He sobbed as he continuously got struck.

It's something I'll never understand. How could loving be wrong?

I started to feel a pull, telling me that someone else needed me, but I resisted. When the bullies were satisfied, they laughed and left the couple on the ground. I wanted desperately to yell, scream, call _anyone_ to help. I knew people were around – I felt them, but there weren't _here. _

"I'm so sorry," I muttered, walking towards them. Because it was my fault, right? I helped them love. I gave them love.

I walked to the blond, only to realize he'd passed out. When I came to Blaine, his breathing was shallow and his eyes kept fluttering. Kneeling in front of him, I whispered nothings, like, "Shhh. It's okay. You'll be okay. People will come. Shhh. Please. Please," I didn't realize I started crying. "I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," he whispered. My body went ridged, as I caught his eyes staring into mine. "It's okay," he repeated. At first, I thought he was talking to the blond, but there was no mistake that he was _looking at me._

I only had one thought: was he dying?

His eyes slowly closed and I panicked, "BLAINE!" I yelled. "Stay awake. Stay awake for me! Don't fall asleep!"

"It's okay," he breathed out.

"Blaine. Blaine. No, please, don't go. Don't..."

"OH MY GOD!"

I turned as a mob of people came from the building. I backed away as they approached, allowing myself to give to the pull of another couple in love. My eyes were caught by Blaine's however, until the crowd covered the two. And they were gone.

* * *

04/17/12.

_Give a little time to me, or burn this out. _

Love, I've come to realize, is cruel. I _hated_ forcing people into it. All it did was mangle their way of thinking, making people _need_ another person. I was naïve to have once found beauty in it. It wasn't beautiful, and it wasn't a gift.

Ever since giving love brought those two boys to the brink of death, I'd become reckless with my arrow. You want love? Here. Take it. Take. Take. Take. Take. That's all I'm good for, right?

I think my real turning point was months ago when I met half of that young couple again. You should have imagined my disgust when I found Blaine not on the receiving end of the blond's loving look. Out of spite, I stuck the blond again, and in return, I struck his counterpart. Let's see how they fair with unwanted love. It was angry, yes, but the guilt evaporated as quickly as it came.

I hadn't seen Blaine since that night, but the boy still plagued me. Never in my eighteen years have I ever connected to another being. For a few months after the incident, I tried desperately to connect to anyone, and after I realized it was useless, I let myself be enveloped by the loneliness.

I just went through the motions, and today was no different. I followed a pull into what looked like a school building. It was large, old, and elegant. Blazer clad students erupted from the classrooms and spilled through the hallways. Without paying too much attention to much else, the pull drew me through a door where singing echoed. A very organized group sang and stepped to an unfamiliar song.

Who fell in love during a musical number? Were we in a Broadway show?

Bitterly, I approached the crowd. The tallest boy, leading the group, was where the pull came. Toughly, I jabbed my arrow directly into his chest. The tall boy stopped singing for a second, his eyes going foggy. Another, shorter, dark haired boy stepped around him. He smiled up at the boy with my arrow still sticking from his body, and then he wasn't smiling or singing or moving. His eyes opened wide with panic, and he was staring at me.

I completely forgot how to breath. It was _him._ Blaine.

I tugged out my arrow and ran, panicking. Almost entirely down the hall, I heard doors bang open.

"Wait!" someone yelled after me.

My heart pounding against my ribcage, I looked over my shoulder. Blaine was sprinting down the empty hallway. Misstepping, I tripped and fell to the ground. Before I even thought of getting up, he was standing over me.

"What were you doing in there?" he asked, a line prominent between his eyebrows.

"How can you see me?" I choked out, crawling backwards.

Blaine reached forward, going to grab for my arm but stopping inches from it. "Who are you?"

"Blaine!" someone else yelled. We both looked down the hall, where the boy I'd just struck stood, holding onto the open door.

With his hands over his mouth and stomach, Blaine turned and said, "Sebastian, I don't feel too well. I think I'm going to head home."

Sebastian's face fell. "Do you need me to take you-"

"No. I'll manage," he said quickly, already walking towards the entrance doors. He eyed me slyly. "I'll see you tomorrow, Sebastian."

Breath caught in his throat, Sebastian retorted, "Okay." Blaine missed the way Sebastian stared longingly after him; it was quick, private, before his superior demeanor rushed back.

I took a hefty moment to catch my breath before I followed after Blaine. He stood in the front lawn, hands buried in his stiff hair, his back to me. It's like he sensed me because he spun around, and asked, "What's your name?"

Fighting off the shock that someone was _speaking to me_, I said, "Kurt."

"Who- What are you?" Blaine questioned, keeping his distance. I could tell he was scared; I could also tell he was curious, and internally the two emotions must be having a messy battle.

"I'm an angel," I mumbled, saying the words before I had time to stop myself.

Blaine made a choking sound, putting a hand over his mouth like he was going to throw up for real. "I remember you," he whispered through his fingers.

My breath coming out shallow, I said, "I don't know how you can see me. No one else can."

Slowly, without saying a word, Blaine approached me, his hand extended. I flinched when he was close enough, and he paused. "Can I?" he asked, and I had no idea what he was asking to touch, but I nodded nonetheless. When I felt his fingers run through the feathers of my wings, I gasped, letting my eyes shut.

"You're real," he whispered, pulling away.

I felt a familiar pull, and my heart dropped. "I have to go," I said, opening my eyes.

"No!" he gasped. I bit my lip, looking him over. "I mean, please don't. It's been _years_!" This was very much the broken boy I'd met years ago, but he was very whole.

Sighing, I said, "I have to follow the pull, Blaine, or it becomes painful." His confused face urged me to continue. "You saw how I struck your friend with an arrow?" He nodded. "I'm a Love Spreader."

Understanding grew on his face. "Like Cupid?" I groaned at his reference, smiling (something so foreign to me), but nodded. "Can I come?"

My headed tilted sideways, surprised. "Um-"

"Please?" he replied, his eyes hopeful. "Tell me you haven't thought of me at least _once_ since that night."

"Yes, I- Of course I have," I said, and I could hear a hint of remorse in my voice. "I'm glad you're okay."

He nodded solemnly then after a beat, he asked, "So, can I come?" Considering him for a second, I ended up nodding. "We can take my car."

It was an odd experience, directing Blaine through the nameless streets, going to a destination that was unknown...in his car. He had opened the door for me, which made me chuckle. "I can walk through walls, Blaine," I'd told him, which had him dip his head sheepishly, shutting the door.

"It's around here!" I said a few minutes later. "The pull is getting strong."

He pulled onto a side-street and put the car in park. As I left the car, he turned his body completely towards me.

"How did you become- How can I see y-" he sighed, frustrated somewhat. "I have so many questions, Kurt."

"Well, start with the simplest," I said, trying to ignore the pull.

Blaine concentrated for a moment then said, "Why did I see you that first time? After the dance."

"Your friend."

"What? He loved me? He never spoke to me again after that night. I don't understand."

I shrugged. "Love isn't infinite, Blaine. I've stuck people who've been married fifty years." Blaine frowned, nodding. Was he a romantic that fantasized about love? Did I just ruin his outlook? But why lie? "Blaine, I have to go. The pull is coming from up there." I pointed out the window towards the top of the building over us.

"I can wait," he said effortlessly.

I furrowed my brow. Did he expect to follow me all day, possibly into the night? He smiled shortly. Of course he did. The empty cavern in my chest echoed with something. I couldn't possibly have a working, beating heart in there. Nonetheless, the sensation was something I didn't know I liked, and I'd do anything to keep it around.

"Okay," I whispered, gazing at the boy before leaving.

* * *

06/13/12.

_All I want is the taste that your lips allow._

"What's the funniest encounter you've ever had?" Blaine asked, rolling onto his side to face me, his head digging into his pillow.

I lay beside him, my wings spread across the bed underneath me. He fingered at one of my feathers absentmindedly. I was comfortable with him now, as he was with me. My love spreading led me all over, but whenever I was close enough to Blaine, I'd find him. About six weeks ago, Blaine asked if the pulling ever stopped, and it sometimes did at night, I reassured him. That's how we started spending nights together, talking, laughing, just existing together – unrestrained, not rushed.

I never remembered feeling more alive.

"Okay, I've got one," I said, arching up on my elbow, the images from the memory vibrant in my head. "It was on Thanksgiving a few years ago. The girl invited her boyfriend to her family's dinner, so on top of everything, it was awkward! I decided to strike right after their prayers, and the boy blurted that he loved her instead of 'Amen.' Everyone froze and stared at him. If the arrow didn't hold stiff in the boy's body, I would have for sure thought they'd be breaking up after the meal, that's how bad the silence was. Out of nowhere, the grandmother says, 'Sweetheart, I'm touched, but I've been married for 55 good years. Maybe try my granddaughter,' and everyone laughed."

Blaine laughed, his eyes doing that crinkling thing I loved. My breath was caught, and just gazed at him. The laughing gradually stopped, but the smile didn't drop from his face.

Clearing his throat, staring back, he asked, "What's the saddest?"

My stomach twisting, knowing his encounter two years ago was at the top of my list. Choosing not to see the sadness that only accompanied personal stories, I told Blaine another.

"I struck someone on their deathbed," I muttered, rolling onto my back to stare at the ceiling. "She was flat-line minutes after my arrow hit her chest. The saddest part was that I struck the boy she loved months prior. Part of me didn't want to strike her."

"Why did you then?" Blaine asked.

"Love's scary, Blaine," I admitted. "It terrifies me, yet she wanted it. Her last dying wish was to be in love. Of course I had to give that to her."

We stayed quiet for a few minutes, lamenting. It was Blaine that spoke first.

"Have you ever been in love?"

The question caught me off guard. I looked over at Blaine, whose eyes were full and curious. How long had he been harboring this question?

"Never," I answered.

"Is that why you're so against it?"

I suddenly felt disgruntled. "I don't understand why you're so for it, Blaine," I snapped. "You've never been in love!"

Blaine's brow furrowed. "Yes, I-"

"I've never struck you. You've never been in love. God, Blaine, can't you just see that love weakens people? It complicates things and ruins lives and _I hate it_! I hate cursing people. I hate giving people the one thing could absolutely break them."

"Maybe they want to be broken."

"Why would anyone want that?!" I yelled, jumping out of bed.

Blaine sprung up as well, pulling to the edge of the bed, and reaching for my shaking body. He held onto my hands.

"Maybe because it feels like they're being fixed." Blaine squeezed my hands. "Maybe they'd rather feel pain than nothing at all."

I was about to argue, criticize his race, until I saw how soft his eyes became. Oh no, I knew that look.

"You can't, Blaine."

Confused, Blaine rubbed my knuckles, getting up. "Is it that you can't fall in love or that you won't?" he questioned, his closeness forcing my eyes shut.

"I don't- I don't know," I breathed, our breath mingling together between our lips which I sensed were inches apart.

"It's horribly sad to give so much love but never receive any in return," Blaine whispered.

"Blaine."

But then he was kissing me, soft and tender. I whimpered against his lips, the sensation new. I was scared and excited and confused, but most importantly, whole. I took a second to map out Blaine's lips before I grabbed at his sides, pulling him in.

Blaine gasped against me, and kissed me harder. Everything was Blaine, but it still wasn't enough. I wanted _more. _I didn't understand the _more_ until Blaine's hands slipped up the back of my shirt – skin to skin. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, trying desperately not to topple over.

"We could _make_ love, Kurt," he whispered against my lips, his hands now rounding to my stomach.

I knew what he meant. And I wanted to. I wanted him. His hands weren't making the decision any easier, and I was sighing, ready to give myself over to the feelings.

"You can't _make_ love, Blaine," I mumbled nonetheless. "I can only give you love."

"Then give me love," he said, pulling away, looking into my eyes.

Everything changed then. It wasn't lustful or hasty. Blaine's eyes were soft, glowing in the moonlight. I knew he didn't mean sex. He wanted love. My love.

I panicked, backing away. There was a painful lump in my throat, and I was on the edge of crying. When Blaine moved forward, I yelped, "Please. You can't love me, Blaine!"

"I- I- _Kurt._"

And then I felt the pull.

* * *

6/20/12.

_Give me love like never before cause lately I've been craving more._

I haven't seen Blaine in six days, sixteen hours, and a few minutes. How did I know this? It was how long I've been in agony, and I'm not being dramatic. There was only one pull I had to follow, and I knew it lead back to him, but I was trying desperately to get away, thinking that maybe if I got far enough, it'd snap. I couldn't focus; I was dizzy, my head throbbed, I was nauseous. Everything felt wrong.

And most of all, I missed him.

Why did Blaine have to fall in love with me? Even before he kissed me, I knew we were in trouble. He shouldn't have to love someone and keep that love only to himself. No one else saw me. No one else knew I existed. I couldn't let this happen to Blaine.

But what did this mean for me? Would I die?

If I had to choose, dying is probably easier. I was right. I was always right. Love is painful and awful and nothing can compare.

I was spiraling downwards. On day four, I started striking random people, hoping it'd level out. Giving love away like it was charity. But as long as I withheld love from Blaine, nothing would get better. By day six, I resorted to tearing out my feathers, hoping with the absence of wings, I'd be human.

At least I could give Blaine more as a human than I could as an angel.

I lay crumpled on the ground, somewhere, nowhere, blinded by the pain coursing through my veins. I only had one thought: him.

Not because of the pull but because what if I did die? I'd never see him again.

It's the guide that I followed, until I was at Blaine's door. I needed to see him, if not for me then for him.

The pain, dizziness, and everything in between lightened until it was a slight throb. Though, I wasn't 100% sure that that wasn't my heart (the one I was positive I had because it broke ten times over these past few days).

I walked towards Blaine's bedroom, taking my time. When I glided inside, I saw him asleep on his bed. So peaceful. So pure, untouched. I couldn't help myself but reach forward and run my fingertips along his cheekbone. Blaine sighed contently, leaning into my touch.

"Kurt," he whispered in his sleep, and it absolutely broke my heart.

It was like the girl on her deathbed, begging for love, her last wish. And I had a choice. Do I give it to her? But in reality, did I? Did I have a choose? Even the people I strike out of spite, they'll be out of love in moments. Brush it off as love at first sight. Did I ever get to choose who falls in love? But then again, do people choose who they love? The answer to both questions is no.

Love chooses us.

And Blaine chose me.

And I choose him. I'll always choose him.

Leaning in, I kissed him, breathing him in, losing myself to the fluttering of my heart. He gasped against my lips but didn't pull away. His response was tanging his fingers in my hair, pulling me to the bed.

I didn't have to be struck to know I loved him.

I tangled myself in Blaine, and kissed him until my lips went numb. Under me, I heard Blaine gasp, and I didn't make anything of it, until he groaned in pain, his breath coming out spluttered. Immediately, I pulled away, looking down at him.

"BLAINE!" I yelled, plunging forward.

Sticking out of him was my arrow, dug deep into his stomach. Around the puncture, red seeped through the fabric of his clothes.

"No! No, Blaine! Why? Why did you do that?" I cried, pressing against the arrow to stop the bleeding.

He laughed; it was shallow and took a lot out of him. "I wanted to be in love."

"No," I sobbed, holding his face. He was having a hard time keeping his eyes open. "Please, no, Blaine. I was going to strike. I swear!"

"I guess I just wanted the pain," he said. I dropped my face into the crook of his neck and cried.

"Don't die, Blaine. I need you. I _need _you."

"It's okay," Blaine whispered, and it made me flashback to a broken boy on the ground, moments from death. I cried harder.

"I love you," I sobbed.

"I love you, too."

I pulled back in time to see Blaine's eyes lose their light. His breath wheezed out until nothing passed between his lips. Everything was painfully quiet, mockingly so.

"No! No! NO! NO! NO! BLAINE!" I shouted, shaking him. "BLAINE!" but he was gone.

* * *

06/21/12.

_Give me love._

I stayed with Blaine until his parents found him the next morning. Somewhere throughout the night, my arrow disappeared, and I thought bitterly that I was free. The price I paid for freedom was _cruel_. I'd spend a hundred years giving love if I got to spend those hundred years with him.

I wish I wasn't so stubborn. I wish I didn't hold Blaine's love captive for so long. I wish he didn't pierce himself. I wish he was here. I just wish. I wish for a better outcome. I wish for him.

But all of my wishes were unattainable.

I wandered, as I always did, with no intentions this time. Somehow, I found myself in the same spot I'd met Blaine the first time, where his body was torn and broken on the ground. The first day I ever truly lost myself. I sat on the bench, and thought, if this was a perfect world, I could have taken Blaine to that dance, saved him, been struck by another angel, naively. And I could have loved him - love that was beautiful, like I used to think.

I finally understood the appeal. Love was everything. It changed everything. It changed me.

And I thought of the arrow in Blaine. I couldn't get it out. It had stuck in him until his last breath. He died in love. He'd always be in love with me.

Always.

I gasped as I felt something hit my back. It sucked the breath out of me, and for a millisecond, I felt the earth shake under my feet. Reaching back, my fingers connected to an arrow deep in my skin.

_It was a sick, sick cruel joke._ An angel striking me.

"_I know I'm in love," _I growled, trying to tug the arrow from my skin.

"I thought you didn't believe in love," a voice said.

My mouth dropping open as I turned. Standing a good distance away from me was Blaine, bow raised, fluffy feathers peeking out from behind his back, a smile lifting his lips. Without a second through, I run into his arms. I didn't know if this was a delusion, but I held on until reality's inevitable slap in the face.

"But you- you died, Blaine. I watched you. I don't understand," I wept, fisting at the back of his shirt.

"I'm so sorry, Kurt. I never thought-" he whispered into my neck, his lips damp with tears.

"Shh, Blaine. I don't care. You're here. And I swear on everything else, I will never lose you again."

I pulled away enough to kiss him, hard, fast, hasty, scared I'd lose him despite my promise. Blaine, kissing back, tried to tug at the arrow, still stuck in my back.

"I can't- I can't get it out," he said against my lips, frustrated.

"It might take a while," I said, smiling. "I plan to love you for a long time."

_The End._


End file.
